When Boys Play
by Loads of Randomness
Summary: "What part of 'I don't want to get shot and thrown in jail' do you not understand?" #1 in a series. AnIntrovertsPen Writing Prompt #12
1. The Plan

"I can't believe we are actually doing this," Deeks said dolefully, kicking away a broken bottle.

"It's good training!" Eric sad brightly, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking far too excited about this whole situation.

"You aren't even an agent, Beale. You don't get an opinion," Deeks retorted.

Eric pulled a face and rolled his eyes.

"I actually agree with him," Sam said, looking vaguely nauseated at the thought.

"With who? Eric or Deeks?" Callen asked curiously from his look out position which was a slightly higher stack of tyres than the ones the rest of them were crouched behind.

Why were there even tyres here? This was an unused plot of land, primed for development before the company fell through. How did tyres always appear on bits of land like this?

"Eric."

"I can't believe I'm actually the voice of reason here," complained Deeks. "I should have gone with the ladies."

"They were doing knife training again," Eric reminded him. "You said you didn't feel like being the assailant for the tenth time."

That was true. He was getting kind of tired getting his arms twisted and "stabbed" on his torso. Let them practice technique today, it wouldn't kill them. Heck, it might save them.

"We didn't force you to come with us. You volunteered," Callen pointed out without looking back, keeping an eye on their targets.

"Because I thought you were doing something way cooler," whined Deeks, ruffling his hair in frustration.

Of_ course, _he was going to choose going with the guys when they said they were going to have a bit of fun in downtown LA _with _Hetty's permission. It beat catching up on his paperwork and it certainly beat getting beat up in the gym. Those ladies of theirs were feisty with those knives.

"This _is _cooler," defended Eric, almost pouting.

"_You're _just happy to be out in the daylight."

They really needed to get him out more, that didn't involve lonesome surfing. The meerkat needed human interactions that weren't via a screen.

"Technically it is good training," Sam said, also looking a bit too excited by this.

Giving both of his colleagues a look of disbelief, Deeks turned to Callen in the hope for some sanity. Surely their team lead could reign this in. He really should have known better.

"I'm starting to think you don't want to do this, Deeks," said Callen drily.

"In what world is taunting a pair of on duty LAPD officers, who are patrolling a known drug trafficking area, to the point that they _chase_ us in complete frustration a good idea?"

"It will improve our escape and evade tactics," Sam pointed out.

Deeks resisted the overwhelming urge to bang his head against the tyres, the tyres didn't deserve that.

"What part of 'I _don't _want to get shot and thrown in jail' don't you understand?"

"I'm sure they'll be cool with it once we explain," said Eric naively. "Should I get my knife out?"

The three agents (well, two agents and an LAPD Detective), gave him variations of a look of disbelief.

"No," they said, almost simultaneously.

They did _not _need an armed Beale running around. Deeks did not want to be the one the one to tell Nell that Eric had managed to stab himself or something. This time Eric did pout but no weapons, improvised or otherwise, were drawn. Who knew what he had "added" to his knife?

"Shouldn't you be able to 'liaise' us out of that hypothetical situation, LAPD _Liaison _Detective Deeks?" quipped Sam, smirking at the blond Detective.

Oh, Deeks was so tattling on Sam to Hetty when this was all over.

"No," he said bluntly. "You know these guys hate me."

You beat a few police officers up when you're undercover and _maybe _accidently destroy a stack of paperwork and suddenly you're a persona non grata.

"True," acknowledged Callen. "Remember last time we had to work with this pair? I didn't know they could be so scathing."

Sam frowned at the memory, not liking disloyalty in an organisation. Especially when the work is so dangerous. He still didn't understand how Deeks survived until his work with NCIS with how much LAPD refused to have his back.

Shaking his head resolutely, he was where he belonged now, Sam said almost gleefully, "Even more reason to do this. They need to pick up their game."

Sighing heavily in reluctant acceptance, but technically looking forward to one upping these guys, Deeks muttered, "I am _not _going to be the one to explain this to Hetty."


	2. The Crime

"Guys, come on!" Callen heard Deeks complain from the other car.

He didn't know what exactly was going on as he was currently having his own standoff with an LAPD officer. They didn't seem to be too understanding of what they all were doing. Or, they just really didn't like them. Callen looked at the pissed off faces. Yep, definitely the second option.

Eric was already in the backseat of a patrol vehicle, having taken one look at the officer's glares and deciding that arguing was not in his best interests. Callen just thought that the man didn't want to end up in a cell again.

"Agent Callen, you'll have to come down to the precinct with us," Officer McHughes informed him.

"Not happening," Callen retorted, folding his arms.

"We've done nothing wrong," added Sam, the only one who _wasn't _getting interrogated by LAPD.

They were probably too scared of him. Visibly being an ex-Navy Seal really ensured that Sam was left alone.

"Hey! Watch it!" Deeks yelped.

Callen glanced over at their LAPD Detective. Great. He had managed to annoy them into patting him down. He had his hands on the stack of tyres as the officer removed his gun and one of his knives.

"Aggravating a police officer is a crime," explained McHughes, dragging Callen's attention back to him.

"We weren't 'aggravating' you."

McHughes raised an eyebrow in an attempt to look intimidating. It made him look constipated. Deeks' _dog _was more intimidating.

"What do you call your hackling and taunting then?" he demanded.

"On the job training," Deeks quipped from were his head was forcibly pushed down to get him into the car.

Both officers glared at him.

"What he said," said Callen with a slight grin.

That did not lighten the mood. Sam snorted from behind him.

"Just get in the car," grunted McHughes.

"And admit that we were doing something wrong?" Sam said incredulously. "I'm pretty sure that legally we shouldn't be doing that, right Deeks?"

Deeks nodded vigorously from beside Eric, behind the now closed doors.

"Do you really want to cause a scene?" the other officer asked, trying to be placating.

Callen thought his name was Jorston. Something like that.

The two remaining agents looked around them. There were a few people standing around (only shoot outs and bodies got a decent sized crowd around you in downtown LA), looking on curiously. Calen saw that some were reaching for their phones. Hetty would _kill _them if this got on YouTube.

Sam appeared to have drawn the same conclusion.

"Fine," he grunted, and practically ripped open the door of the other car.

The officers flinched and eyed each other, they looked like they were trying to decide who got to drive who. Callen was just amused that they just didn't break out into rock, paper, scissors.

"I'm calling in my favour," insisted Jorsten, backing over to the car Deeks and Eric were in.

"Really?" demanded McHughes.

Jorsten gave Sam the once over and shivered.

"Positive."

McHughes stomped over to his car, glaring at Callen who decided that pissing him off was no longer fun. He buckled himself in as McHughes slammed the doors shut.

"I don't think he really won," the officer observed.

Sam and Callen looked over at the other car where Deeks was already waving his arms about and very obviously talking animatedly.

"Shoulda put handcuffs on him," McHughes muttered, starting up the car.

* * *

"Hello, boys," came an unpleasantly familiar voice.

Deeks groaned loudly, putting his head in his hands, as Sam frowned. Internal Affairs Detective Whiting stood in front of their holding cell.

"What are you doing here?" spat Sam protectively.

"This isn't in your responsibilities," added Deeks warily.

Eric just made a whimpering noise and hugged his knees to his chest. Well, at least he wasn't pacing anymore.

"Officers McHughes and Jorsten thought you'd be more receptive to a familiar face," she said, smirking triumphantly.

"We have nothing to say or admit to," Callen said for the fourteenth time that afternoon.

"We're not saying something outside of an interrogation room, which, by the way you have _no _authority to put us in," Deeks said firmly.

"Hmm mmm. Their report says otherwise," she retorted, waving a file at them. She took out a notepad and pen, looking at them expectantly. "Start talking, boys."

* * *

It had been forever since Detective Whiting had left. Well it had only been twenty-three minutes but that was practically a day when you're in the slammer.

Callen frowned, he really had to stop watching those old cop shows.

The sound of key turning in the lock (a bit of overkill that McHughes had gleefully done) shocked them all out of their own thoughts. Maybe it was one of their lovely officers again. Callen really wanted to be amused.

The door opened. A feminine shadow appearing on the opposite wall.

"Someone's here for you, boys," said Whiting with a smirk, purposely jangling the keys.

They all looked at each other nervously. It was definitely not anyone's respective partner if that was look she was giving them. That look promised that they were in a world of pain.

"Um, who?" Eric asked timidly as the door was opened with an unoiled screech.

The IA detective just smirked at them as she left the holding room. They all gulped.

'Click, click, click' came the sound of short strides.

Oh no. They shrank back into their cell.

"Gentlemen."


	3. The Return

**AN: Would you believe that this story was meant to be a one shot?**

Hetty returned from the processing desk, having convinced the nice officer there to relinquish her boys' documents. She only trusted herself or Miss Jones to destroy them. She approached the boys in question, who were getting scolded and hugged by a very amused Miss Blye and Miss Jones. They were all cracking joke but there was a note of anxiety hanging in the air.

"Miss Blye, if you would be so kind to bring back Miss Jones in your car?" she seemingly requested. As if she gave out requests.

She had told them, as they were leaving the mission, that if they wanted to see what was going on they would have to bring themselves. They had decided to follow, Miss Blye grabbing her keys first.

"I can bring at least one of the guys…" Miss Blye suggested, trailing off when she looked at her boss. "Or not."

She grabbed Miss Jones' hand and tugged her along and out of the precinct. The door shut with a bang. Her boys jumped.

Mr Callen opened his mouth.

"With me," she instructed, cutting across him.

She did not want have her conversation here of all places. She opened the door for them with a flourish.

"After you, gentlemen," said Hetty.

Her boys looked at each other, daring _someone _to go first. Hetty had to hide a smile as she tapped her feet. It would not do for them to be here all day.

Mr Hanna decided to take matters into his own hands, literally, and lifted Mr Beale so he was now in front of them. Mr Deeks gave him a helpful push. The poor boy stumbled to halt in front her, brown eyes wide.

"My car, Mr Beale," she instructed.

Giving the others a helpless look, he shuffled out of the precinct. Exchanging looks, the three of them sensibly decided to follow. No point in putting off the inevitable, was there? She carefully watched them trail to her car. They really made a sorry bunch.

Of course, their voluntary silence didn't last long. Their voices were loud as they bickered over who would get the middle seat at the back. Mr. Callen had slipped into the front seat when the argument began, not that any of them wanted to be so close to her on this car ride.

She coughed pointedly and pointed her finger at the car. They quickly scrambled in. Apparently, Mr Deeks had lost that argument as he practically flopped himself in the middle with an audible huff. Hetty eased herself into the driving seating, cautiously easing the door shut. Her boys all jumped at the soft 'click' as if it had been slammed.

Carefully, she manoeuvred her car out onto the main road, not saying a word. She did glance into her mirror that showed the backseat of miscreants. Mr Hanna opened his mouth.

"No, Mr Hanna," she said, turning down a side street just _in case _they were being followed.

"But-" added Mr Deeks.

"Not here," Hetty semi-scolded.

Mr Deeks shrunk back in his seat with a pout. Only he would want to try and explain himself to her in a moving vehicle. He should be glad that she had decided not to bring her two-seater. She still would have made all four of them ride with her, LA traffic laws be damned. She wouldn't trust them to get back to the Mission of their own accord.

They'd probably cause another incident and she really didn't have the patience to deal with anymore LAPD inanity for at least another month.

Mr Beale was fidgeting up a storm, looking resolutely at his bare knees. Honestly, would the boy ever put on a pair of pants?

"Can I at least put on some tunes?" Mr Callen asked, hands poised over the radio.

His three partners-in-crime winced. Hetty peered over her glasses at him. He still looked at her hopefully, not really affected by anything but her glare anymore. She was losing her touch.

"No music for the condemned," she decreed, turning sharply into a relatively unused alley way. Mr Beale and Mr Hanna clutched the door handles tightly, knuckles white. Mr Deeks was very pale and clutching both of their knees.

"Not even any last requests?" he eldest quipped, unruffled by her quick manoeuvre.

She didn't even deign that with a response. Suddenly she pulled the brakes, all the boys shouted in fear as she narrowly stopped short of the car in front. Damn LA traffic.

"I think my heart just stopped," gasped Mr Deeks, both hands on his chest.

"Stopped? Mine just appeared in my mouth," muttered Mr Callen, scrunching his nose up.

"Blumblwfhgrmf," mumbled Mr Beale, incapable of speech and eyes wide.

Sam had his closed, head back against seat and breathing heavily.

Honestly, _these _were her best people?

"Is this our punishment?" Mr Deeks asked weakly.

Hetty chuckled.

"Oh, my boys. I haven't even _got _to your punishment yet."

She wasn't entirely sure who that whimper came from this time.


	4. The Reckoning

Hetty paced up and down in front of her ragged line of miscreants. She hadn't said anything since she summoned them all to her office, to the snickers of Kensi and Nell. Mr Beale was on the verge of a panic attack and Mr Hanna and Mr Deeks looked nervous. Only Mr Callen looked calm and in control. Key word, looked. Hetty knew he was anxious and ever so slightly amused at all of this.

She smothered a smile as she thought over their little "incident". You never let children know that you find their misbehaviour amusing. It just wasn't good for your authority.

She let them sweat for a few more minutes.

"What exactly were you thinking?" she finally asked them, standing behind her desk.

They all shrank under her gaze. She tapped her foot.

"Well?"

Three heads swivelled to look pleadingly at a put-out Mr Callen.

"Mr Callen?"

Callen rubbed the back of his head and said sheepishly, "Next question?"

He tried to hold her stare but had to look away far too soon for his liking. Hetty gave them a look of satisfaction. Only she had the power to unnerve him.

"Hmm,"

She made sure that that sounded _very _disapproving. A smothered chuckle came from behind them. Miss Blye and Miss Jones were observing from the safe distance of her agents' desk. Miss Jones had even procured a bag of chips to share. She'll let them have their fun.

"I thought you said you had Hetty's permission," hissed Deeks out of the corner of his mouth

"I lied," shot back Callen

"Get over it," added Sam.

That got them another frown from their diminutive boss. She did not want them distracted from her scolding. They definitely needed to listen to every word.

They all gulped. Ms Jones snorted. Hetty had to admit that they did look like disobedient school boys. Which they really were to her.

None of them were talking. Eric coughed nervously.

"Um, Hetty?" Mr Deeks asked nervously, raising his hand slightly.

She raised her eyebrow at him and peered over her glasses.

"How did you get down to LAPD _before _we got fully processed?"

Hetty just smiled enigmatically as she thought to earlier in the day.

* * *

Kensi and Nell were gulping down water from their respective bottles. It had been a good session. Kensi really thought that Nell was getting good. Her reflexes needed sharpening but that came with practice.

Nell wiped her brow.

"Work you too hard, Jones?" Kensi teased.

Nell flung her towel at her and pulled a face.

"You're a worse taskmaster that Sam," she complained, still breathing heavily.

Kensi shoved her shoulder. Nell winced. Tomorrow wasn't going to be fun.

"We need to warm down," Kensi instructed, heading to the mats they had laid out.

'DING DING DING'

Everyone in the gym turned to look at Nell's bag. Nell frowned and a look of recognition rapidly crossed her face. She darted over to the benches and rummaged through her bag, lifting out her tablet. Pictures were flashing on the screen.

"What is it?" Kensi asked, trying to see the screen. A familiar shield came up on the screen. "Is that LAPD?"

"Yep," Nell confirmed distractedly, tapping the screen frantically.

"Why is LAPD-?"

"It's an alert that triggered if any of you get put in the LAPD system," Nell explained, already walking out of the gym and slipping her earpiece in.

"You have software that checks that we-?"

Nell gave her look.

"Right, of course you do."

"We need to sort this out before Hetty finds out," said Nell.

"What did they even do?" Kensi asked curiously, stomach twisting.

They _said _they were doing observational training. They're code for hanging out and keeping their skills sharp. It leant more towards hanging out but as long as Hetty didn't complain, why should they?

"Something about aggravation, suspicious behaviour and … a tyre?" Nell read out, squinting at the screen. "This report is all disjointed with very poor grammar."

"Hetty wouldn't approve," Kensi said with a grin. "But, really? A tyre?"

"Yeah, I don't know," Nell said in whisper as they walked through the corridor. "But Hetty-"

"Already knows, my dear," said the woman herself, appearing in front of them.

Where did she even come from? They really needed to check for trap doors around here.

"What's going on?" Kensi asked.

"That, Miss Blye, is what I intend to find out," said Hetty determinately, striding towards the doors.

Nell and Kensi looked at each other and shrugged before scrambling after their Operations Manager. It shouldn't have surprised them that Hetty already knew.

* * *

"Nell?" guessed Mr Beale, he knew about the program. Heck, he had done most of the development work.

"Nope," replied Miss Jones with a smirk but looking curious herself.

"Tracking devices?" corrected Deeks. "I always suspected…"

"Nah, satellite control with overwatch," argued Callen

"Or she saw us," Sam pointed out the obvious

They devolved into loud bickering, completely forgetting where they were.

"Gentlemen!"

Her boys looked down at her, immediately silenced. She crooked a finger at them.

"Your punishment."

They eyed each other nervously and followed her, doing the walk of shame through the office. So many agents were hiding smirks. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

"This is your fault," Mr Hanna informed Mr Callen.

"Yes, because you were _so reluctant_," he retorted.

"Ahem," Hetty cleared her throat and brought them to a standstill in front of a very familiar door.


	5. The Punishment

"We have to clean and polish _all _of these?" complained Deeks incredulously, staring at the table in the armoury.

"Heavens, no," said Hetty, edging from behind them.

They all sighed in relief.

She flipped a switch on the wall and every single compartment, secret and obvious, opened. There were rows and rows of weapons. The four men gaped.

"There's got to be hundreds in here," breathed Sam, mentally totting up what he could see.

"One hundred and forty-six exactly," Hetty corrected and started walking out. "They need to be dismantled, cleaned, polished (where appropriate) and organised properly. Cloths and cleaning solution are in the bucket by the door."

The boys continued to stare.

"I should have done this this morning," muttered Hetty, turning to the door. "Idle hands are the devil''s playthings' and all that."

Hetty disappeared, the door closing behind her with a 'click'. They stared, disbelievingly, at the wide array of weapons.

"I don't think I'm even authorised to handle half of these," said Eric, looking at the bigger guns in wonderment.

"You're not," Sam informed him bluntly.

Callen heaved the cleaning bucket onto the table.

"How do you want to do this?" he asked.

"I should have gone with the ladies," whined Deeks.

Sam threw a wet rag at him, splattering Callen.

"Suck it up, I thought you were a cleaning freak?"

"Neat freak," Deeks automatically corrected, plucking the rag from the air, and frowned. "No, wait."

Sam just grinned in triumph. Deeks did the mature thing and stuck his tongue out at the older agent.

"Guys? How do I dismantle this?" asked Eric, swinging a rifle around, nearly smacking Callen around the head.

"Woah," said Callen, alarmed, taking the weapon of the Technical Operator and handing it to Deeks. "Let's start you off with something smaller."

"And less volatile," Sam muttered under his breath.

"Here," added Callen, pushing a box towards him.

Eric opened it eagerly then his face fell.

"Knives?" he complained. "Guys…"

"Do it," Sam instructed firmly. "And _maybe _we'll show you how to do the rifle."

The blond brightened up, "Really?"

Deeks looked at Sam and mocked, "Yeah, really?"

Sam glared at Deeks.

"_Show only._ No touching it, okay?" Sam added hastily.

Eric nodded rapidly and reached eagerly into the knife box, wanting to get them done quickly. Callen grabbed his hands.

"One at a time," he instructed. "No grabbing. You hold the handles."

It would be just their luck that after antagonising hostile LAPD Officers and surviving Hetty they would have to go to the ER because Eric grabbed the blades of multiple knives at once. How on earth would they even explain that?

"Okay," Eric agreed.

Callen eyed him suspiciously but released he hands.

"Show him the rifle, Sam?" Callen demanded of his partner with a raised eyebrow as he reached for a handgun.

Sam shrugged, already dismantling a long-barrelled pistol.

"Thought I'd reward him."

"Like a small child?"

Ignoring his partner, Sam looked around the room which looked like it was filled with endless weapons.

"You know, we could probably get Kens in here to help willingly. She loves taking care of her weapons."

"It's kind of scary," Deeks said in agreement, not doing any actual work yet. Instead he was rummaging through the many compartments, being very nosy.

"I have instructed Miss Blye to leave you to your punishment," Hetty informed them, appearing on Eric's tablet.

They all jumped, several knives clattered to the floor. They all looked at a sheepish Eric.

"I'd advise you pick up the pace, gentlemen," instructed Hetty and the screen went black again.

"How does she _do _that?" Deeks asked, lifting one side of the tablet curiously. Eric slapped his hands away.

Callen and Sam looked at each other and shrugged, both reaching for another weapon. Hetty was right. If they wanted to even make a dent in these, they had better get started.

"Oi, Deeks! Get working, will you," barked Sam in a very drill-sergeant manner. Cleaning weapons didn't to bring that out in him.

Deeks waved his free hand dismissively, having gone back to rummaging. "In a second. Wow! What's Hetty doing with a gun from the nineteen thirties?"

"Do you really need to ask that?"

Deeks looked thoughtful and then shrugged. "Good point."

Sam rolled his eyes, officially ignoring the detective. The man in question plucked a long thin, rectangular _something _from a drawer. He turned it over curiously in his hands, mentally weighing it. It looked very light.

"What is this?" he asked himself, running his fingers around the edges.

His pointer finger caught on something and with a sharp 'snick' a long blade was quickly released, snapping out and brushing _just _over Callen's shoulder.

Callen jumped away just in time to not get injured, his shirt wasn't so lucky. A broad strip had been sliced away. He glared at Deeks, who had dropped the weapon in shock.

"Nice look, G," chuckled Sam.

Still glaring, Callen stated while looking pointedly at the two younger men, "New rule. Both of you only handle weapons that me or Sam have given you."

**AN: And that's it. Thank you to all my reviewers, anonymous and signed in. You've all been so nice to me and you've inspired me to write an outtakes fic that will be up tomorrow! Any additional scenes from this that you want to see send in a PM please**!


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